In Search of the Sun

by Rushlight (n_sanity75@hotmail.com)

Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan

Fandom: SW:TPM

Archive: my site only, anywhere else please ask first

Author's Website: http://www.slashcity.org/~rushlight

Category: AU, PWP, First Time, Romance

Rating: NC-17

WARNINGS: This story contains an UNDERAGE Obi-Wan, so please, if this squicks you, then read no further!

Summary: Qui-Gon buys a young Obi-Wan as a bedslave. (note: This is an AU that bears little resemblance to the Jedi universe that we know from TPM.)

Author's Notes: This is my very first attempt at writing underage slash fiction, so any heartfelt encouragement and/or constructive criticism will be welcomed with open arms. :)

"Stand up straight, boy. You want the masters to think you're weak?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi blushed lightly under the harsh words and straightened his back, lifting his chin slightly to meet the hard grey gaze of the crèche-master. Adel had been his guardian since he was six months old, when Obi-Wan's family had handed him over into the care of the Jedi. He was the only authority-figure that Obi-Wan had ever known.

Adel pinched Obi-Wan's cheeks a bit to bring out the color in them, and then Obi-Wan was ushered out of the low barracks building that had been his home for as long as he could remember. The sunlight was glaring as he stepped outside, the fragmented stone of the courtyard shimmering in the light as if it had been paved with broken glass. Obi-Wan stared at it as if he had never seen any of it before in his life, drinking in the muted green canopy of the shade trees that blanketed the front yard and thinking that he had never seen anything more beautiful.

"Move along, now." Adel propelled him along the narrow walkway toward the front green, where the other children who had come of age were gathered. The masters were already here, moving among the small throng of young people like shoppers inspecting wares at the bazaar.

Obi-Wan had always known that it was his lot in life to be purchased as a padawan. The word meant "bedslave" in the ancient tongue, and it was the favored description for what Obi-Wan's kind - orphans too young to fend for themselves, or children whose parents were too stricken by poverty to support them - were destined to be. The Jedi never turned anyone away, as long as they were under the age of choosing and were physically capable of performing the duties that would be required of them.

Obi-Wan's eyes passed nervously over the assembled masters. Which one would choose him? His gaze fell without his volition on a dark-skinned man who was on one knee, conversing with a trio of young girls no older than Obi-Wan. The man looked incredibly huge to Obi-Wan's young eyes, huge and forbidding. Obi-Wan felt an involuntary shiver as he imagined those large hands moving over his skin, stroking him, claiming him, and he dropped his gaze hurriedly onto the grass in front of his feet, feeling his face flush.

He knew perfectly well what a padawan's duty was. He had been prepared for it from a young age, theoretically. He had never been touched in that way, however, and while he had been trained in the ways of obedience, he truly did not know what to expect from such a joining. All the book knowledge in the world could not prepare him for the reality of finally coming of age to join the ranks of those who stood in line to be chosen.

A shadow fell across his vision then, and he looked up, startled to see that one of the masters had approached him without his noticing. For a moment, fear pounded through him, but then he remembered his training and bowed slightly, hoping the man would not be able to sense his unease.

"Good morning, Master," Obi-Wan said, his voice shaking only slightly. He lowered his eyes respectfully, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the ground between them.

The man lowered himself to one knee, much as the dark man had done, and observed Obi-Wan in silence for a moment before speaking. "Is this your first Choosing, young one?"

His voice was low and somehow soothing, and Obi-Wan tentatively lifted his gaze. His breath caught as he took in the sight of the man, whom he had only just glimpsed against the sun. The master was smiling, his sharply defined face dominated by two warm blue eyes and framed by a fall of cinnamon hair, touched just slightly by the first intimations of silver. It was a proud face, kind, with lines around the eyes that suggested a tendency toward laughter. Obi-Wan found himself smiling in response, and the rapid beating of his heart slowed down a notch or two.

"Yes, Master," he answered, ducking his head shyly.

The man's smile turned softly sympathetic. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen." It was the minimum age that children were admitted to the greens. Most were purchased within their first year, but even the unwanted ones were found work as houseslaves or fieldslaves eventually. No child of the crèche was ever without a home for long.

For a moment, the master just looked at him, his gaze caressing. Then, "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn. What's your name?"

Obi-Wan stared at him for a moment before he found the wits to speak. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Master," he said at last.

Qui-Gon Jinn smiled again. There was something almost sad about it, and Obi-Wan was struck by the sudden impulse to comfort the man.

"Are you looking for a padawan?" he asked, not knowing where his sudden courage to speak was coming from. When one of Qui-Gon's brows lifted questioningly, he hastily added, "I've seen you here before, sometimes. We can see the green from the barracks windows, and we'd watch sometimes, trying to see who was being chosen."

"And what did you and your friends see?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice soft. He didn't sound angry at Obi-Wan's confession; on the contrary, he sounded intrigued.

Obi-Wan licked his lips nervously, captivated by that intense blue gaze. "You came here often, but you never left with a padawan, Master." He let the question enter into his voice.

"Perhaps I didn't feel I was ready for a padawan." There was sudden solemnity in Qui-Gon's voice. His eyes were serious as he held Obi-Wan's gaze. "It is an awesome responsibility, to take charge of such a young life in this way."

Obi-Wan nodded. "I suppose it would be. But..."

"But?" Qui-Gon's eyebrow quirked again, urging him to continue.

"You seem so lonely." As soon as the words left his mouth, Obi-Wan wanted to bite his tongue. Who did he think he was, talking to a master that way? If Adel heard him, he'd box Obi-Wan's ears for sure. Respect for the masters was the primary lesson that was taught here in the crèche.

But Qui-Gon took no offense at the perceived familiarity of the observation. He regarded Obi-Wan with a weighing stare, and then his face relaxed into another of his soft smiles. "I suppose I am, at that." Raising one hand, he tentatively moved to brush the hair away from Obi-Wan's eyes. He hesitated for a moment more, then asked, "Would you like to come home with me, Obi-Wan? I have a large estate, big rooms, lots of open ground for a boy to run around in. I'll be away a great deal, doing work for the Jedi, but there are servants who live with me, so you'll never be alone."

Obi-Wan stared, his heartbeat escalating. Was Qui-Gon offering to buy him? Was he actually asking Obi-Wan's permission? For a moment, he couldn't think what to say, but then he was nodding, swallowing the lump in his throat as he made his decision. "Yes," he said, and it came out as little more than a whisper. Chosen on his first day? The thought made him lightheaded with excitement and sudden fear.

Qui-Gon touched him lightly on the head as he rose to his feet, then moved off to find Adel. Obi-Wan watched with wide eyes as the money changed hands, and he flushed under the heavy, approving look that Adel sent in his direction. Qui-Gon spoke to the crèche-master for a few moments, asking questions about his new purchase perhaps, and then he came back across the green toward Obi-Wan.

"That's done," the master said, resting one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and squeezing gently through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Let's go home, shall we?"

Qui-Gon's estate was as grand as had been promised. Obi-Wan's eyes widened as their coach crossed the wide stone bridge onto Qui-Gon's land. The road here was framed on either side by tall, dark trees, their branches leaning over the road and interlocking overhead. Obi-Wan had never been outside the crèche before in his life, and the sight was awesome to his admittedly biased gaze.

The road passed through the heart of several interconnected gardens, making Obi-Wan itch to explore the winding paths that he saw. Qui-Gon regarded him fondly, completely charmed by the innocent appraisal in the boy's gaze.

Obi-Wan was introduced to the house servants first. He suffered through the introductions stoically, one hand clasped inside Qui-Gon's larger one, and stayed close to his new master's side. He wondered what these people thought when they saw him, the young boy brought into their household as the master's new bedtoy, but he sensed only genuine welcome and friendliness in the words of greeting that they offered to him.

Qui-Gon had two hunting dogs, Ralif and Kain. They were large mastiffs, grizzled and grey, but Obi-Wan was comforted by the obvious adoration with which they greeted their newly arrived master. As soon as Qui-Gon introduced him, they approached Obi-Wan with equal fervor, and Obi-Wan laughed as he was assaulted by a dual wave of warm, furry bodies and welcoming tongues. Each animal was almost as large as he was, and he was quickly borne to the ground by their ecstatic greeting.

After Qui-Gon had rescued him from the enthusiasm of the dogs, they moved into the parlor for a quick breakfast. Obi-Wan kept his eyes lowered as they ate the warm bread and sweet fruits that had been laid out for them, and Qui-Gon seemed to take pleasure in the challenge of drawing him out of his shell. Soon Obi-Wan found himself talking avidly about his experiences in the crèche, the friends he had made there, the fun times he had had.

Afterwards, they went outside, and Qui-Gon began on a tour of the gardens. Obi-Wan was awed by the immensity of this place that was his new home, and the beauty of the gardens astounded him. Qui-Gon walked slowly at his side, talking long into the afternoon about his work in the Senate. He had a reputation as one of the Jedi's most able negotiators, and while his work was oftentimes difficult, he found it very rewarding.

Before Obi-Wan knew it, the sun was dipping below the western horizon with a touch like rose-kissed fire. He felt a sudden chill as he remembered the purpose of his station here, and the joy that he had felt throughout the day melted away as if it were as fleeting as the light that slowly bled away around him. His throat was dry as he followed Qui-Gon into the house to prepare for bed.

To his surprise, Obi-Wan was left to his own devices as his master bathed, and then he was left alone when he was encouraged to do the same. Comforted somewhat by the lack of intimacy that he had so feared, he cleaned himself efficiently and then dressed in the loose sleep pants that the servants had set out for him.

Qui-Gon's bedchamber was a large, open room with wide doors opening out onto the garden outside. The doors were slightly ajar now, letting in the night breezes and filling the room with the scent of wild flowers. Obi-Wan's eyes were wide as he took in the room's magnificence, his gaze skimming over the softly hued stone of the walls, the ornamental pillars that stood against the far wall, the yawning fireplace that was empty and cold on this warm summer night. The smooth marble floor felt cold under his feet.

Qui-Gon's hand fell lightly onto his shoulder, and Obi-Wan jumped slightly as he felt the palm brush his bare skin. He looked up into his master's eyes and saw nothing but kindness there, and he did his best to quiet the tremors that were threatening to shiver through him. There was nothing to be scared about, he told himself firmly. Nothing at all.

The smile Qui-Gon favored him with had a touch of sadness to it. "Come to bed, Obi-Wan," he said quietly.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and obeyed, following his master across the room to the large bed. The sheets were the color of seashells, and when Obi-Wan reached out tentatively to touch them, they felt soft as birds' wings under his fingers. Feeling Qui-Gon's eyes on him, he crawled gamely into their soft embrace, sliding under the covers and sighing as the satiny material slid against his skin.

Qui-Gon followed him a moment later, and the look in his eyes was serious as he met Obi-Wan's gaze. Obi-Wan was trembling now despite his best efforts, though he bravely tried to meet his master's eyes.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, his voice a soft breath across Obi-Wan's face. "It would grieve me terribly if you were afraid of me." He ran one finger lightly over Obi-Wan's brow and down across his cheek, holding the young boy's gaze steadily. "When you are ready, my little one," he said gently, "then I will make you mine."

Obi-Wan smiled hesitantly, and then Qui-Gon bent to kiss him, the softest brush of lips. Exhaling heavily, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to relax. Qui-Gon wasn't going to claim him. Not tonight. The feeling of relief that washed through him was so profound that it brought tears to his eyes, and he could feel the dampness on his lashes as he burrowed in close to his master's chest. Qui-Gon's arms closed around him, holding him close.

Surrounded by the warm strength of Qui-Gon's body, Obi-Wan lost himself in the scent of his master's hair, and slept.

The days passed, and still Qui-Gon made no move to claim the body of his new padawan. Obi-Wan began to relax into his new position, despite the fears that still lingered in the back of his mind, and he began to find his place within the life and breath of Qui-Gon's household. His days were spent in quiet labor, helping the servants with their work around the house and gardens, and he fast became a favorite among Qui-Gon's staff. The servants all adored him, and he found it easy to urge extra sweets out of the cook in the afternoons, or convince the stableboy to take him for rides in the evenings when Qui-Gon was away.

At first, Obi-Wan dreaded the evenings, fearing that each night would be the night when he would at last be taken, but Qui-Gon still did not come to him for sex. They cuddled, they touched, they kissed sweetly in the still moments before sleep overtook them, but no further demands were made other than the comfort of Obi-Wan's presence. He began to look forward to these times, when he felt enveloped in his master's love, cherished and valued and protected.

Qui-Gon insisted that Obi-Wan pursue his studies, so a great deal of Obi-Wan's time was spent reading, or engaged in one-on-one sessions with the tutors that Qui-Gon hired to teach him. History, art, music, poetry, ethics, literature, politics... Obi-Wan disliked a number of the subjects that Qui-Gon chose for him, but he did his best to learn them, because he knew it pleased his master that he do so.

Most displeasing were those times when Qui-Gon was called away from his home on business. The Jedi were able negotiators, and their wisdom was often called on throughout the surrounding lands in these difficult times. Obi-Wan suffered through his master's absence in stoic silence, continuing dutifully in his chores and lessons, although Qui-Gon's absence pained him in ways that he could not explain.

During these absences, he spent his nights curled up alone in his master's large bed, his body twined around Qui-Gon's pillows so that he could inhale the presence of his master that still clung like a lingering fragrance in the room. At times, the dogs would join him, and the three of them would huddle together in quiet misery waiting for their master to return.

And Qui-Gon always returned. He came bearing gifts from far distant lands, which Obi-Wan was always sufficiently appreciative over, even though he felt the greatest gift of all was to have Qui-Gon back at his side. He looked forward to the day when he would be old enough to accompany Qui-Gon on these excursions; the Jedi had strict rules about introducing padawans into potentially hazardous situations until they had reached the age of independence. At this time, they would be able to buy their freedom if they so chose, and many opted to join the ranks of the Jedi who had raised them, sometimes taking on padawans of their own.

In the secret depths of his heart, however, Obi-Wan didn't believe that he would ever buy his freedom. He enjoyed being Qui-Gon's padawan, and he didn't want their relationship to ever, ever change.

Obi-Wan loved to serve his master in the evenings. It fast became his favorite time of day, when all the servants had returned to their homes at the lower slopes of the estate, and the entire house was empty save for the two of them. Qui-Gon would generally sit on the chaise longue in the common room, or on the furs in front of the fire during the colder months, while Obi-Wan brought him his supper.

As always, he invited Obi-Wan to sit with him. The air was just slightly chill this evening, warning of winter's inexorable approach, but it was enough for Qui-Gon to choose the furs by the fire as his resting place while he waited for Obi-Wan to bring his meal. Obi-Wan paused in the doorway of the large room, caught for a moment by the sight that greeted him. Qui-Gon's hair fell loose around his shoulders, his body wrapped in the heavy folds of his autumn robe. His head was turned towards the fire as if he sought to find his providence in the flickering flames. The shadows danced with sprightly abandon across his bearded face, giving him an almost eerie countenance. He looked unaccountably somber for a moment, and to Obi-Wan he was heartbreakingly beautiful.

Then Qui-Gon caught sight of Obi-Wan, and the spell was broken. With a small gesture, he welcomed Obi-Wan into the room. Obi-Wan set the tray down on the furs, and then sat beside him, tucking his legs under him and pouring his master a drink from the chilled pitcher on the tray.

Qui-Gon held open one edge of his cloak, pulling Obi-Wan in against his side, and Obi-Wan leaned against him with a contented sigh, meeting his master's gaze with a shy smile. As was often the case lately, there were few words between them, as if they had progressed beyond the point where words were necessary to draw comfort from each other's presence. Qui-Gon nudged his face affectionately with the bridge of his nose, making Obi-Wan giggle lightly. Then he began to eat the food that Obi-Wan had prepared for him, offering choice bits to his padawan.

"Tell me a story," Obi-Wan said, after their meal was completed. The tray had been set aside, but instead of asking Obi-Wan to dispose of the dishes, Qui-Gon had tucked the boy even deeper inside the folds of his robe and now sat staring into the fire again, holding his padawan close.

"A story." Qui-Gon's expression turned thoughtful, and he nuzzled into the side of his padawan's neck, his breath warm against Obi-Wan's skin. Inhaling deeply, as if savoring the scent of the boy in his arms, he began to speak.

"A long time ago, beyond the outer rim, there was a nation of people who devoted their entire lives to worship of the Sun. In their innocence, they sought to harness the Sun's power, its light, its life, and in so doing, they forgot what it was that made their lives worthwhile. Every waking moment was spent in search of their goal, until they had abandoned everything they had known before the obsession of the Sun fell upon them.

"One day, a great wizard came among them, and he bore a great gift. It was a magical stone which he said harnessed the fire of the Sun. Using this artifact, the people of the Sun grew in knowledge, but it was a power won without wisdom, and a great calamity befell them. Somehow, the fire of the Sun escaped the stone, and in a single day, the knowledge of loneliness was burned forever into the hearts of men. The fire of the Sun they had so coveted was now forever beyond their reach."

Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, pondering his master's words. "That sounds like a metaphorical story," he said at last.

Qui-Gon kissed him lightly on top of the head. "It's a parable, Obi-Wan. Its meaning is concealed in the words."

"What does it mean, then?"

For a moment, Qui-Gon was silent, his cheek resting against the soft fall of hair at the top of his padawan's head. His gaze was locked on the flickering tendrils of the fire. "It means that once you find your Sun-stone," he finally said, "you have to be very careful with how you use it, lest its power be forever lost to you. The Sun-seekers misused the gift that was given to them, so the very fire that made that gift special was lost, irrevocably."

Obi-Wan thought about that for a long moment. "I still don't understand."

Qui-Gon hugged him tightly, pressing another kiss to the side of his face. "I know." He sounded inexplicably sad for a moment, but then his voice shifted into teacher-mode as he added, "You have to find your own meaning for it, Obi-Wan. It's different for everyone. Just ask yourself, what is it that you seek? What do you desire over all other things? And would you be willing to take it, without waiting for wisdom? Or would you wait, and give the Sun the time it needs to come to you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Qui-Gon stood, pulling Obi-Wan up beside him. After resettling the drape of his cloak over Obi-Wan's shoulders, he drew the boy with him into the inner rooms to get ready for bed.

Obi-Wan followed docilely, but his thoughts were still filled with his master's words. The imagery of the Sun-fire refused to leave him, even as he lay curled up beside his master's body in their bed, waiting for sleep to claim him.

Obi-Wan grew. Qui-Gon watched the boy's development through admiring eyes, enjoying the way the softness of youth slowly developed into the future promise of the man he would one day be. Long, wiry limbs, made strong by countless hours of physical exercise, skin bronzed to gold by exposure to the sun. Gods, but the boy was beautiful. Qui-Gon could still remember his first glimpse of the lad, there on the Choosing Green of the crèche, eyes wide and shining with unshed tears as he watched the masters move around him, so small and lost and vulnerable. Qui-Gon's heart had been lost at that moment, never to be reclaimed again.

The boy was a match for him now in the strategy games Qui-Gon so loved to play in the evenings. They would play for hours sometimes, sitting in front of the fire as the day paled to twilight around them. Qui-Gon was delighted to find that there was a keen mind inside that golden-furred head, a thriving intelligence that thrilled at the challenge of matching wits with Qui-Gon Jinn. He found the boy's company absolutely stimulating, and it did not surprise him a bit when Obi-Wan began to discuss the latest treatises of the Old Republic in the same breath he would use to describe his latest exploits in the gardens and woods of their estate. Obi-Wan was growing as fine and sharp as a well-honed blade under Qui-Gon's patient tutelage, and Qui-Gon felt as if he could burst from pride and love for the boy.

Today, Obi-Wan was crouched by the edge of the pond in the summer garden, one hand trailing languidly in the water so that the golden kai fish could kiss his palm. Qui-Gon watched him for a long moment, drinking in the sight of him.

Obi-Wan was dressed in a loose shift that was well-suited to the weather in these warm summer months, its pale color bringing out the rose color in his cheeks. There were white flowers braided in his hair, and happiness fairly emanated from the boy with a radiance all its own. Qui-Gon smiled as he moved forward across the low stone walkway spanning the water.

"Master," Obi-Wan said, standing fluidly and taking his master's hands as Qui-Gon reached for him. He tipped his head up when Qui-Gon bent to kiss him, and as always, the taste of this bright young soul came near to bringing tears to Qui-Gon's eyes. So young, so beautiful, so vulnerable and full of quiet love. Qui-Gon believed that he could never drink his fill of this captivating young man.

"Would you like to ride with me in the woods today, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked. He always asked, even though it was his right as Obi-Wan's master to command the boy's obedience. The most alluring thing about Obi-Wan was the fact that he served his master willingly, and Qui-Gon would not break that tender innocence for all the world. It would be too easy to break the spirit of this one; he gave of himself wholly, without hesitation and without regret. It was the greatest gift that Qui-Gon could ever receive, the trust and love of this beautiful young boy.

"Oh, yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, as Qui-Gon had known he would. His sea blue eyes shone in the light of the sun. Excitement fairly thrummed from him in visible waves; time alone with his master was as precious as diamonds to him, a fact that never ceased to humble and amaze Qui-Gon. Once again, he thought of how fortunate he was to have this boy be a part of his life.

Together, they moved toward the stables, and as he walked, a single thought sang like music through Qui-Gon's mind.

Gods above, I love him.

On the night of his fifteenth Nameday, Obi-Wan approached his master with a question. Qui-Gon could sense it burning in him throughout the day-long celebration he threw in the boy's honor. He was a favorite among Qui-Gon's servants, and the love Obi-Wan's work-mates bore for him was evident in the gifts that they showered on him. Obi-Wan accepted the attentions with good graces, but there was a sadness underlying his enjoyment of the celebration that cut to Qui-Gon's heart.

Later that night, Qui-Gon drew a bath for his melancholy padawan. The large, claw-footed tub filled quickly with hot water and fragrant bubbles, and Obi-Wan sank obediently enough into its musky depths, sighing as the water wrapped his naked body in its tender embrace.

Qui-Gon knew how difficult it was for his padawan to give in to being coddled. He much preferred to draw baths for his master, to scrub Qui-Gon's long body with mounds of scented soap, to wash his thick hair and then rinse it clean with streams of warm water from the tap. He could spend hours just combing his master's hair, simply because he knew that it brought Qui-Gon pleasure. Once again, Qui-Gon was struck by the knowledge that he was incredibly lucky to have Obi-Wan for his padawan.

Qui-Gon bathed the boy in silence, but at last, he gave into the unvoiced plea and shed his clothes, stepping gingerly into the hot water beside his padawan. Some of the sadness left Obi-Wan's eyes at that, and Qui-Gon felt heartened by the tender adulation that he saw in that blue-eyed gaze.

Obi-Wan sighed happily as he pulled out the tie from Qui-Gon's hair, combing his fingers through the length of it to work out the tangles. Qui-Gon leaned back against Obi-Wan's chest, closing his eyes in pleasure as soft kisses traced the line of his jaw under his ear.

"What's troubling you, love?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, almost lost under the soothing caresses of his padawan's hands. When almost a minute passed with no response, he turned slightly in the water until he was facing Obi-Wan. "Tell me," he encouraged gently, touched by the pain he saw in his padawan's expression.

Obi-Wan's eyes were downcast. "Don't you find me pleasing, Master?"

Qui-Gon was startled by the question. "Of course I do, Obi-Wan." One hand moved of its own accord to smooth down the side of the boy's face, caressing softly. "Why do you ask?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, still not meeting Qui-Gon's eyes. "Because you haven't ... haven't..." Suddenly agitated, he burst out, "Don't you want me, Master?"

"More than life itself," Qui-Gon answered without hesitation, and Obi-Wan finally found the courage to look at him. The faintest glimmer of tears clung to the dark lace of the boy's lashes. Slowly, Qui-Gon moved to brush them away. "You, Obi-Wan, are the most beautiful, most desirable, most pleasing companion I could ever have hoped for. Never doubt that you are cherished. You hold a place in my heart that no one else can ever fill."

Obi-Wan smiled shyly through his tears. "I love you, Master."

Qui-Gon's fingers fanned out across the side of his face, cupping Obi-Wan's cheek lightly. "And I," he kissed the brow over one of his young ward's eyes, "love," a kiss over the other eye, "you." A kiss on the lips then, firm pressure yielding to a soft exhalation of need, and Obi-Wan gasped as he felt the moist warmth of Qui-Gon's tongue flicker across his lips.

"Master," he whispered, his lips parting to admit his master's questing tongue. Warm and soft, that velvet heat entered his mouth, tasting deeply. Obi-Wan moaned, feeling his world fragment around him.

"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon returned. His fingers tightened slightly around Obi-Wan's jaw.

"Why haven't you ever claimed me, then?" Obi-Wan asked, eyes closed, his breathing shallow as he shivered under the softness of his master's touch.

Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile at the question. "I wanted to get to know you, my young one. If all I'd wanted was a bed companion, I could have found that at any brothel."

Wide eyes opened to look at him, silvery blue in the lamplight. "Do you know me well enough yet, Master?" The words were the faintest brush of air across Qui-Gon's face.

Qui-Gon trembled under the import of the question. "I wanted to wait for you to come to me," he admitted softly, stroking his fingers along the line of Obi-Wan's jaw. "I have no interest in taking an unwilling child to my bed. And you were afraid of me, at first." Another soft kiss, brief and poignant. "Are you ready yet, my young one?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, my master." Obi-Wan's eyes shone with quiet joy as he met his master's lingering gaze.

Slow kisses then, drinking deeply of his padawan's essence, enjoying the soft, moist warmth that opened so sweetly to him. Obi-Wan grew breathless under Qui-Gon's touches, excitement building gradually in him as Qui-Gon made slow love to his mouth, touching him lightly, hands stroking languidly over the boy's flushed skin. He was so young, so passionate. Qui-Gon felt as if he were drowning in the heat of his padawan's desire.

Very carefully, Qui-Gon rose and drew Obi-Wan out of the water. Keeping a light hold on his padawan's arm, not wanting to break the contact between them, he reached for one of the fluffy white towels folded beside the tub and wrapped Obi-Wan in its comforting folds.

The boy looked so small suddenly, so innocent. Qui-Gon used the towel to dry him with the utmost of care, as if he were as fragile as crystal and might break at the slightest mishandling. Obi-Wan suffered stoically under his master's ministrations, his eyes never leaving Qui-Gon's face. He smiled shyly when Qui-Gon met his gaze.

"To bed now, my love," Qui-Gon said, once they were both dry and warm. Taking Obi-Wan's hand in his own, he led the boy out of the bathing room and into the adjoining bedchamber. Moonlight spilled in through the wide veranda windows, filling the room with caressing silver light. It provided enough illumination where Qui-Gon did not feel the need to light a lamp.

That perfect light caught in Obi-Wan's eyes as they both slid under the sheets, hands searching for and then finding each other once they were securely ensconced underneath their satiny embrace. Obi-Wan's eyes were wide and dazed as Qui-Gon's hands moved over his skin, his expression one of absolute wonder, reminding Qui-Gon anew that he had never in his life been touched this way.

Qui-Gon could not resist the impulse to kiss those waiting lips, chastely at first, and then with rising passion, and the small sounds that escaped Obi-Wan's throat increased Qui-Gon's own excitement to the point where it was an effort not to just rub himself to completion against that willing body. Obi-Wan's lashes were dark against the pale skin of his cheeks, his breathing labored as he panted lightly into Qui-Gon's mouth.

"You are beautiful," Qui-Gon murmured against open lips, licking softly across their swollen curves, and he gasped slightly as Obi-Wan's tongue rose tentatively to meet him. So beautiful, and had he ever known such desire as this, holding this boy in his arms?

"You're the beautiful one," Obi-Wan whispered, his hands moving up the slopes of Qui-Gon's arms, slowly at first, and then with increasing confidence. Qui-Gon allowed the exploration, encouraging it with small nips and kisses across his padawan's neck. He couldn't seem to keep his hands still; they wanted to be everywhere, and now that he had finally allowed himself to give in to the siren song of his padawan's body, he was eager to become acquainted with every inch of it.

Qui-Gon slid his fingers down the length of Obi-Wan's spine, stroking deeply and drawing a shuddering breath out of his trembling padawan. Obi-Wan lay his head against his master's chest, breathing deeply, his fingers tightening almost painfully around Qui-Gon's arms.

"Relax," Qui-Gon chastised lightly, bending to nip at the tempting curve of the boy's tender ear. This drew another small gasp, and he smiled slightly.

"Love you, Master," Obi-Wan whispered against his chest. His hands released Qui-Gon's arms to fist in the sheets around him, white-knuckled from the tension in his small frame. "Want you." His tongue darted out to swipe at Qui-Gon's left nipple.

Qui-Gon's vision went hazy for a moment under that erotic caress, and his hand moved to cup Obi-Wan's smooth bottom, pulling their bodies closer together. His breath hitched as he felt the heat of his padawan's slender erection press against his own.

Obi-Wan whimpered softly, and a strangled sound escaped his throat as Qui-Gon's finger slid into the cleft of his buttocks, moving lightly over the small opening there. Obi-Wan arched back into the touch with a low groan, and the fingers of Qui-Gon's other hand combed through his damp hair, soothing him.

"Easy," Qui-Gon said, although he was trembling nearly as badly as his padawan. Reaching into the darkness behind him, he pulled away from Obi-Wan's welcoming form long enough to fetch the small vial of oil from the bedside drawer. Obi-Wan made a small sound of protest at the loss of contact and then sighed as Qui-Gon's body found his again under the sheets.

Qui-Gon returned to his exploration of Obi-Wan's body, bending to taste again of that delectable mouth. The boy tasted like sunlight, and he opened to Qui-Gon with all the passion of his tender heart. When Qui-Gon's hand found his backside again, he bucked sharply, giving an open-mouthed cry against his master's lips.

"Shh, my love," Qui-Gon said to him, smiling down into wide blue eyes. Obi-Wan's expression was dazed, and Qui-Gon kissed him lightly on the bridge of his nose, a tender gesture. Very carefully, he unstoppered the vial in his hands and dipped one finger into the golden liquid, moving to work his oiled digit into the cleft of Obi-Wan's buttocks.

"Relax, love," Qui-Gon murmured, his own body tensing as his finger nudged up against that virgin opening. Sweet gods, but the boy was tight. The thought sent a flare of lust arcing towards his groin, and he bit back a low moan as he patiently worked his finger inside.

Obi-Wan had gone still in his arms, his breathing shallow. Glancing down, Qui-Gon saw that the boy's eyes were tightly shut, lashes dark as ashes against his cheeks. His lips were parted, and as Qui-Gon watched, the tip of his tongue darted out to moisten his full bottom lip.

"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked. This was little more than a whisper. Qui-Gon continued his slow invasion of his padawan's body, removing his finger for a moment so that he could add more oil.

"Oh, Master." Obi-Wan's voice was choked. The eyes he opened to Qui-Gon's avid gaze were glazed with need, his expression rapturous as his body gave way to Qui-Gon's steady claiming. His cheeks were flushed with arousal, golden hair curling damply against the side of his face. Unable to resist, Qui-Gon kissed him, drawing that seductive bottom lip into his mouth and worrying it between his teeth, drawing forth another low gasp from his padawan.

Finally, Qui-Gon's finger found its way fully inside the sheath of his padawan's body, and Qui-Gon sank his teeth lightly into the skin of the boy's shoulder, groaning low in his throat. Twisting his hand just slightly, he reached for the spot that he knew was there, and even as he stroked for it, Obi-Wan convulsed in his arms with a sharp cry, his hands clutching spasmodically at Qui-Gon's arms.

"Master," Obi-Wan panted, burying his face against Qui-Gon's sweat-dampened neck. "Oh, Master."

Reining in the urgency of his own desire, Qui-Gon slicked his fingers with more of the oil, pressing a second finger into his padawan's narrow opening. Obi-Wan yielded easier this time, and Qui-Gon quickly added a third.

"Master!" Obi-Wan's cry was hoarse with need, and his fingers tightened around Qui-Gon's arms. Qui-Gon waited for several tremulous heartbeats, his own breath rasping in his chest as he fought the desire to simply take this succulent young body without taking the time to prepare it. After what seemed a small eternity, Obi-Wan's body relaxed in stages against him, molding against the skin of his chest.

"Hurts?" Qui-Gon asked softly, concerned.

"A little." Obi-Wan's voice was the softest of breaths against his neck. "It's better now. It feels..."

"Feels?" Qui-Gon prompted when his padawan trailed off, nibbling along the line of the boy's throat and swiping his tongue across the salt-slick skin, drinking him in.

"So full." Obi-Wan laughed shortly, the breath leaving him in a gusting sigh. With deliberate care, he fanned out his fingers across Qui-Gon's chest, pressing his palms against the hot flesh, and dipped his head to lave at his master's nipple, teasing the smooth flesh into a pebbled nub and drawing it into his mouth with sweet suction. "I want you in me," he whispered, nipping lightly with his teeth.

Qui-Gon groaned, his body arching under his padawan's caresses, and then he was pulling his fingers from that clinging flesh and rolling the boy over onto his stomach. Obi-Wan yielded with a sigh, his arms stretching out over his head to fold around the pillows underneath him.

Amused to find his hands shaking, Qui-Gon reached for one of the supple pillows and slid it underneath Obi-Wan's stomach, lifting him up off of the mattress. For a moment, he just stared at the sight before him, his Obi-Wan, laid out and ready for the taking. The boy's golden skin was gilded with sweat and flushed deeply with arousal, lean and sinuous against the pale sheets. Even as Qui-Gon watched, the boy's hips made a small circular movement against the pillow under him, an assuredly unconscious plea for more of his master's touch. Unable to resist, Qui-Gon smoothed a hand over the seductive curve of one round buttock, smiling at the resultant tremor this caused.

"My Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed, draping himself over that enticing back, biting not quite gently at the edge of one slender shoulder blade. Obi-Wan gasped at the sudden pain, then sighed as Qui-Gon's tongue moved to soothe the small hurt. Supporting his weight with one arm, Qui-Gon reached down between their bodies to slick his straining shaft, using as much of the oil as he could.

"Are you sure you're ready for this, my young one?" Qui-Gon whispered into Obi-Wan's ear, lowering almost his full weight onto the boy's back. He supported himself on his elbows to either side of Obi-Wan's trembling form and bent to lick at the nape of that slender neck, inhaling the scent of his padawan's skin. "It's your choice, Obi-Wan. Always your choice."

"I'm yours, my Master," Obi-Wan replied, his voice muffled against the pillows.

The words made Qui-Gon groan aloud, and he shifted his hips so that his erection pressed up against Obi-Wan's slickened passage. Gently, he began to push, testing the resistance of the ring of muscle that he found there, biting hard on his lower lip to hold back the sounds of rapture that Obi-Wan's body was trying to wrest from him.

Obi-Wan was moaning under him. His back bowed up against Qui-Gon's chest, skin sliding against sweat-slick skin. An involuntary groan was pulled from Qui-Gon as he felt the boy's body give way to his relentless invasion, heated pressure wrapping around the head of his cock. His palms slid up the length of Obi-Wan's arms, found his hands, and their fingers curled together as Qui-Gon continued to push steadily into the tight heat of his padawan's body.

Yes. Soft skin, slender limbs, tight heat around him, clutching him, drawing him deeper inside. Warm body under his lips and tongue. Hoarse cries, harsh with need, slender fingers clutching at his hands, holding him, anchoring him, as the world narrowed to the body that writhed and twisted beneath him.

"Master," Obi-Wan whispered into the pillows, and Qui-Gon touched his tongue to the nape of the boy's neck, his breath cooling on the moistened skin. Obi-Wan pressed his hips back into Qui-Gon's groin, panting lightly as Qui-Gon continued to press into him, his entire body thrumming with the force of his arousal.

Heat. Heat and pressure, and gods, this boy was beautiful, writhing like a virgin houri against the sheets, the gasps that were wrung from him striking deep into Qui-Gon's soul. Obi-Wan's legs fell further open, inviting him in, ankles moving back to twine around the backs of Qui-Gon's legs, holding him close, refusing to let him go. Gods. Such sweet flesh, beautiful and willing and his, rising to his thrusts with all the helpless abandon of the passion that sang between them.

With a groan, Qui-Gon released one of Obi-Wan's hands and reached down to grasp the slender curve of his padawan’s hip, his fingers tightening with almost bruising force on his next thrust. Obi-Wan gasped, his head moving from side to side as he pressed back into the touch, and his freed hand moved up to cup the back of Qui-Gon's neck, fingers combing into the damp fall of hair around their shoulders. Qui-Gon rubbed his cheek roughly against the side of the boy's face, marking him, breathing in the musk of his essence. His hand worked its way under their straining bodies to close around the heat of the boy's erection.

"Master!" The cry was almost incoherent, and Obi-Wan's head flew back at the contact, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling as his body trembled between the dual stimulation of being both caressed and penetrated. Qui-Gon tightened his grip, stroking heavily, and Obi-Wan gave a low, keening wail, his body shuddering violently in his master's arms. Qui-Gon watched greedily as the boy's face contorted in pleasure, flushing red with passion and excitement as he spilled his sudden passion over Qui-Gon's hand.

Qui-Gon gave a ragged shout as the muscles clutching his penis tightened with the boy's orgasm, and then he was following with a harsh cry, the world splintering into rainbow shards around him. For one endless moment, everything was light and heat and love, and all that he had ever sought for or dreamed was here, now, in his arms.

"Love you," Qui-Gon whispered, surprised to find that there were tears on his cheeks. Very carefully, he rolled onto his side, pulling Obi-Wan with him. His penis slid out of the boy's body as he moved, and he made a low sound of disgruntlement as that pleasurable sheath was lost to him.

"Master," Obi-Wan replied, turning his head to meet Qui-Gon's eyes. His smile was one of utter contentment.

Qui-Gon's heart filled with joy as he read the adoration in that sated gaze. "Sleep now, Obi-Wan," he said softly, brushing back the damp strands of hair that clung to the sides of his young lover's face. "We'll talk in the morning." And then again, softly, "My Obi-Wan."

"Yours," Obi-Wan agreed, his eyes closing. He burrowed back against Qui-Gon's strong form, safe in the protecting embrace of his master's arms.

"Mine," Qui-Gon breathed, nuzzling into the back of his padawan's neck. The scents that rose around him were dizzying in their intensity. "As I am yours."

He couldn't be sure that Obi-Wan had heard him. The boy's breathing had evened out into the slow rhythm of sleep, his body lax and trusting in Qui-Gon's arms. Smiling, Qui-Gon tightened his grip around him, thinking how wonderfully fortunate he was to be able to share his life with this boy that he loved.

Basking in the light of his own bright piece of the Sun, Qui-Gon slept.

End.

Feed the Author
(n_sanity75@hotmail.com)